


Eternity in an Hour

by Ereana



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Fluff, Gods and Humans AU, Immortality, M/M, Secret Identity, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ereana/pseuds/Ereana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo's world is chaos and blood. Worshiped by some and feared by more the god of war is sinking into apathy after centuries of repetition take their toll. The duties he once took pride in feel stagnant and it's a rare thing to feel anything beyond amusement towards the humans who pray to him.</p><p>One day. One prayer. One meeting and it all changes.</p><p>Just who is this warrior at his temple? Why does he look for a blessing from a being he does not believe in? Why is he different?</p><p>He does not know how much it will cost him to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternity in an Hour

“Fall back!”

“Don’t give them an inch men!”

“Brother? Oh gods, brother no!”

“Healer, please! I need a healer over here!”

The clashing of swords against shields. The screaming and yelling which rose up from the battlefield in a cacophony of agony and pain. The colour red painting over everything else; symbols, charms, skin nothing was left untouched by it. Hard to believe the writhing mass of human violence had once been two armies facing one another from across the field. Both easily distinguishable in colours of blue and yellow, the elite warriors from the poor sods who could barely hold their weapons, and the two leaders standing out splendidly from the rest of their men.

Only madness remained.

The flags of both kingdoms were lost somewhere in the mud. Any meaning or value that had been attached to them swept away with each cry and new splatter of red.

No time for tears as another comrade fell to a blade. There was only the next step to take, the next enemy to cut down, and the next attempt to try and end the madness raging around them.

Kuroo sees it all. A sharp grin curving along his face as he wonders who to support this time.

Should it be the obvious win for the northern kingdom? They had brought more men after all; better trained ones too. There were far more encouraging yells then cries of fear from their side, or well what looked to be their side the lines had gotten fairly blurred now that everything was coloured red.

Then again perhaps it was time for another miraculous victory by the weaker force. An almost magical triumph for the tiny kingdom by the sea, he could just imagine the surprised soul wrenching relief, the celebrations, the offerings that would be placed upon his alter. If he had any reason to care about such things Kuroo would even say that they had the nobler reason to fight of the two armies; wanting to protect their home rather than expand their imperialistic ambitions. Not that it would have any effect on his decision; he’s long since given up caring why humans fought each other.

Being the god of war his focus is on the current scene below him.

One of the soldiers is on a winning strike and Kuroo leans forward to watch his progress. The man is big, colossal even, and Kuroo spends a moment to ponder about half-bloods and ogre fathers before he’s drawn into the way the warrior fights. It’s brutal. He carries a club in his hand no blade or finesse here and charges forward swinging it in front of him, almost uncaring in whoever is unlucky enough to stand in his path. He thinks almost because whenever a glint of yellow catches his eye the man pauses and slightly alters his path to avoid them.

A fighter for the northern kingdom then.

Kuroo’s grin turns savage.

More. More. More.

With each swing of that beautiful crude club the red strengthens, even the ground is starting to look more crimson than brown.

Most can only manage a half cry before their skull is crushed by the blow.

He can feel it all; the pain, the ecstasy, the fear and the joy. His fingers grip on to the side of his chariot, the red metal of his gauntlets the only thing preventing his nails from piercing the wood. Intrigued growls sound out from the two panthers which are harnessed to it; Strife and Chaos could feel their master’s interest.

“Not yet.” He says, running a hand up Strife’s back. “I’m still not sure if this little display is worthy of me going down there myself.” But he can’t deny the way his eyes remain glued to the single man forcing a path deep into the heart of the battle. Strength and skill and cunning are things he can still appreciate.

And reward.

It wouldn’t even take a flick of his wrist, all he’d need to do was will himself to be seen by the yellow army and the fight would be over. Morale would multiply tenfold, the cheering cry of ‘the war god stands with us!’ would flood the plain in an instant and the poor  battered once-blue men of the sea kingdom would lose any will to fight against the foe who had the war god’s support.

Sadly, it had been a while since he’d felt any urge to participate in the insanity itself. Where he would appear suddenly and silently in the midst of a battle in his red and black armour with two blades in either hand. A moment’s pause to let himself drown in the symphony of war and unleash himself amongst them like a wolf upon sheep.

Yet it seemed those days had passed and the various knights, warriors, berserkers or whatever they were calling themselves now offered him only amusement.

One last bored glance over the raging battle and he was decided. The warrior’s display s good enough for now. Another win for the northern kingdom. The men of blue would not recover from this loss and the empire spreading from the north would only grow.

Kuroo stops caring and summons his power to change the momentum. Another spurt of red, he bares his teeth in the semblance of a smile; such a lovely colour.

* * *

“You need to start taking more care in your duties Kuroo.”

“This is an excellent wine Akaashi; I’d almost forgotten how good the drink in the underworld was.”

“Kuroo-”

“Yachi has done a spectacular job. You better be careful or I’ll steal her away from you.” He grins and takes a sip from his glass, revelling in the way the god of the dead’s shoulders tense at the mention of his personal servant.

Akaashi had very few weaknesses, he was one of the most powerful gods in the pantheon and Kuroo would admit that facing him across a battlefield was equally terrifying as it was exhilarating. Shadows clung to dark robes making his already pale skin look a stark bone white he made mortals and gods alike feel fear.

One of his weaknesses had just entered the splendid hall of Akaashi’s palace.

Kuroo’s smirk softens into something that could almost be called a smile as the tiny blonde figure makes her way to the table carrying a hefty black jug. No-one apart from Akaashi and the girl herself knew how Yachi had come to be in the god’s service. Kuroo had managed to glean a few clues from her over the years and it seemed that Akaashi had saved her from something. But she was very tight lipped about the subject and there was no point in asking Akaashi which only earned him a blank look and a few words on keeping out of other god’s affairs.

But it was so hard not to. Not when he saw the way Akaashi’s eyes lightened, well not lightened not really became less dark less heavy, whenever he saw her. The protective way the god of the dead watched over her spoke of more than a simple master to servant relationship and Kuroo itched to discover what it was.

Plus the human spirit was admittedly one of the sweetest things in the world and the fact that she could make him smile was enough to take interest in her.

“Yachi you must let me know when I can take you away from this dusty old place. You would live like a queen in my home and I’d only require a cooked meal from you once a week I swear.”

She laughs and sets the jug down by her lord. Hundreds of years have made her used to his ways but he’s pleased that he can still see a faint blush on her cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry to disappoint you lord Kuroo but I don’t want to leave the underworld.” Her voice is quiet but firm and out of the corner of his eye he sees Akaashi’s shoulder drop just a fraction. He really was scared of losing her.

“Ah! You’ve broken my heart again. I’ll have to storm this place next week and carry you off over my shoulder.” This earns a startled meep. Wide eyes look up at him with apprehension rather than fear.

One of the shadows on the floor wraps around his leg in a warning.

“Don’t listen to him Yachi he’s only bluffing.” Kuroo smirks as Akaashi shoots him an unimpressed look. The second most important rule in the underworld after ‘Akaashi’s rule is absolute’ was ‘do not upset Hitoka Yachi’. She was loved by the dead, the opposite to their lord and aided in the smooth running of the realm.

Kuroo would have wanted her in his home for her administration skills alone.

“I k-know my lord.” She says taking up some of the empty plates. “Lord Kuroo has an…odd sense of humour that’s all.”

Kuroo leans forward and sets down his glass. “Don’t let the other souls hear you say that, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“One you don’t seem to be concerned about.” Frustration uncurls in his gut at the start of a conversation they’ve had many times over recent years.

“I fail to see what your concern is Akaashi.” Yachi shoots them both a worried look obviously feeling the shift in the atmosphere. “I’m still there observing the battlefields.”

“That isn’t all you have to do. You can’t keep ignoring your other responsibilities.” Akaashi’s tone is stern, eyes flashing purple with power and Kuroo bristles as it washes over him in a thick wave. He hates to be threatened even if he knows Akaashi doesn’t mean it as such.

He sits back in his chair own eyes gleaming red as his own power rises up to meet Akaashi’s.

“I fulfil them.”

“To the minimum.”

“Once again old friend I find myself asking why my affairs are any concern of yours?” Only the appearance of friendliness remains in his voice. Akaashi can certainly here the sharpness underneath subtlety has never been one of Kuroo’s strong points. His friend lets out a sigh power receding as he rubs his forehead abruptly making Kuroo feel like a student facing his disappointed teacher.

“Because you’re becoming apathetic and that is not a fate I wish upon any being.” The concern touches Kuroo even as he inwardly protests it. He is not some child to be worried over, Akaashi has more important things than a bored god to sigh about; Hinata was set on his task of trying to brighten up the underworld. The god of the sun was a tenacious character all energy and light who struck with the force of a tornado. Someone had given him the idea that the underworld was too dark and he was now set on remedying it.

Kuroo claims only partial responsibility for this. Tsukishima was the one who told Hinata he couldn’t do it. The relationship between the sun and moon gods was another constant source of amusement.

“Not even me? I’m pretty sure you’ve cursed my existence more than any other creature.” Akaashi’s eyes don’t waver though there is perhaps a touch of humour in them. Kuroo is one of the few who can even partly read the other god.

“Even you Kuroo.”

“I’m touched. You’ve won my heart back from Yachi. When shall we hold the marriage ceremony?”

“When I agree to let Hinata set up a second sun down here.”

“Damn.”

* * *

 So maybe Akaashi’s word had stuck in his head for longer than usual he thought as he looked down on the small town below. It sat on the border of Miyagi, one of the few northern lands that hadn’t succumbed to the growing power, and at first glance it seemed plain and boring. Nothing to distinguish it from the hundreds of others like it across the world.

Yet Kuroo can’t help but stop. Not when the familiar feeling of prayer tugs at his consciousness. He can just make out the local temple dedicated to him, a fairly simple building of black and red stone and someone inside is calling on him.

Not one of his priests either, their prayers feel more refined and elegant, draped in the language of religion and eloquence even if his tend to be more violent than others. It’s been so long since he listened to a prayer he can’t make out the words, they sound dull in his head. Akaashi’s point about his negligence rings a little too true when he has to struggle to hear the faint mumble of a prayer.

Kuroo hates it when Akaashi is right, especially about him. The god is never smug but there is always a faint tinge of inevitability in his face, as if he was waiting for Kuroo to admit it that he was wrong.

With a thought he’s in his temple. The candles flicker when he appears and a quiet thrum of welcoming washes over him. Still invisible to human eyes he steps forward in search of the person whose mumbled voice continues to sound in his head.

Normally he would not go to such trouble for a single prayer, he hasn’t responded to group prayers for several years, but he refuses to prove Akaashi right even as he knows he’s doing exactly what the other god wants.

One human. One prayer and then he can go. He can feel satisfied about listening to a believer before leaving to watch the fight he can feel brewing in the south-east. Any feelings of guilt, which he certainly does not have, will be gone and everyone’s happy. At least until Akaashi sees fit to lecture him again.

The main hall of the temple comes into view, the flames of the brazier’s flare as he steps inside unnoticed to the figure on one knee with his head bent down in the centre.

Kuroo spares a moment to take in the statue of himself carved in black marble looming large on the back wall. It casts an impressive shadow that covers most of the floor in darkness but other than its size there’s nothing too remarkable about it. He’s portrayed in full armour with a helmet obscuring the entirety of his face, in this one he’s wielding two blades and a shield rests against his right leg. The shield bears his symbol, a panther head with its mouth open in a fierce bite.

His attention is soon drawn to the reason for this impromptu visit. From here he can make out one or two of the words the man is chanting under his breath ‘strength’, ‘defend’, ‘fight’, ‘leader’, a warrior then seeking aid for an upcoming battle. It was the most common appeal he heard, and he let out a breath of dissatisfaction. Of course it would be something as plain as this. He felt no desire to fulfil it at present. Now if-

“Is someone there?”

What?

His wandering attention is drawn back to the man now standing in the hall. The armour he’s wearing is of decent quality and has been well looked after. Kuroo can’t see a weapon, not that many would bring one into a temple, but the cautious way he’s holding himself tells of a man who can handle himself without the need of a blade.

How on earth had he known Kuroo was there? 

“I know you’re there. Please come out.”

Kuroo snorts at the tone, it sounds like the man is trying to lure out a frightened child rather than warning a would-be attacker. Patient but also firm. This was someone who expected his orders to be followed. A captain of the local barracks perhaps?

It wouldn’t hurt to indulge a little more. With a thought he clothes himself in the robes of his priests, a medallion materializes around his neck with the panther head emblazed upon a golden disk, and a staff of oak is grabbed from thin air. A sheepish expression slides on to his face as he steps out into the light of the hall.

“Ah my apologies I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were praying.”

The man’s shoulders dropped a fraction as he turned to look at Kuroo. Short dark hair, curious brown eyes that lost some of their wariness when he took in the robes and staff Kuroo had fashioned for himself, and a scar under his left eye. The moment he laid eyes on it Kuroo felt a pulse of energy.

Ah, a wound from battle then. Scars carried memories. This one was earned in a storm of spears.

Without a second thought he reached for the memory. It sprang to his touch with ease and in a flash he knew, he saw, he re-lived.

_Ikejiri is next to him struggling against the weight of his opponent’s blade against his own._

_Daichi has to get to him. He has to help. Except the path is blocked by bodies and weapons, Ikejiri’s feet are starting to give way and without a second thought Daichi hurls himself into the fray._

_He tries not to focus on the feel of his sword meeting soft flesh. Lessons drilled into him that he can’t forget and his arm automatically aims for the exposed part of the enemy. Bile rises in his throat as blood splashes over his breast plate but Ikejiri needs him and he carries on._

_Sudden pain blooms at his side and he looks up to see a spear heading for his face._

Move. 

_He lunges to the ground and somehow manages to retain his hold on his shield, even as his muscles scream at him to drop it. A body falls in front of him and Daichi stares into dead eyes. Are they blue? Brown? Green? He can’t tell. The only thing he can see is the emptiness in them, a shell left behind sinking into the mud. Is that what death is? Hollowness and the aching lack of anything. He doesn’t want to find out._

_Fear tastes like mud._

_Ikejiri. He has to get to his friend, his training partner, the boy he grew up with waxing wooden sticks at one another as they dreamed of being heroes. Dreamed of leaving their tiny border home for the capital city of Seijou. The caw of a crow, the only witness to their secret practices by the stream, and a bright laugh as a path of riches and honour seems to stretch before them._

_It crumbles to ashes in his mouth._

_Nearly there. He’s nearly made it. The enemy soldier raises his sword to strike the final blow as Ikejiri’s feet give out. The man, is it really a man, grins bloody and cruel as the teen falls to his knees before him. The sword starts to swing down._

_No. No. No. No. No._

_NO_

_With a burst of strength dredged from the pits of desperation Daichi flings himself forward with his shield, eyes closed to stop fear from freezing him in his place._

_Sharp pain in his left eye. His right arm thrusts forward._

_The now recognisable feel of metal piercing flesh._

It takes less than a second and Kuroo makes no outer show of his new knowledge.

“It’s fine. I just didn’t expect a priest to be skulking about in the corners of their temple.” There is a half-smile on the man’s face and Kuroo raises an eyebrow.

“This isn’t _my_ temple. It belongs to him.” He jabs a thumb at the statue of himself pushing down the urge to chuckle at the lie. “I’m a mere caretaker here. And I was not skulking.”

“Emerging from the shadows in dark roads without making a sound? Forgive me but that’s a little skulky.”

“Skulky isn’t a word. And even if it was I wasn’t.” He taps his staff on the ground. “Now is there anything I can help you with?”

“What’s your name?” Kuroo blinks before remembering that he’s meant to be a priest. It’s been so long since someone hasn’t recognised him that he’s not had to introduce himself for centuries.

“Kuroo.” Brown eyes spark with laughter and he only realises his mistake when the man points his own thumb at the statue perfectly mirroring Kuroo’s earlier move.

“So was it a coincidence or does the god of war demand that all his priests must carry his name?” Bitterness. It coats the way he says god of war. Odd for a warrior, especially one as skilled as this, but maybe not giving the memory he’d just seen.

“My parents thought it would bring me luck if you must know. You do not seem fond of my master. Rather strange given your fervent praying a short while ago.”

Definitely sheepish now. The human raises a hand to scratch the back of his head.

“Caught that huh? Let’s just say I have no taste for his work.”

“Unusual for a warrior.” Wonderfully this produces a slight flush and Kuroo mentally scores a point for himself. “May I ask what your name is?”

“Sawamura, I’m Daichi Sawamura. And yes it’s a little unusual but,” he trails off, eyes speculative as he looks back at the statue “I’d prefer not to fight.” Kuroo does snort at this and Sawamura turns to him with the embers of anger starting to burn in his face. It reminds him of his own look when he finds himself holding the same repeated argument with Akaashi. “You think it’s funny?”

“From a man trained to fight? Yes I do.” The anger ebbs away and Sawamura huffs a laugh that sounds fairly self-deprecating. Kuroo moves a little closer eyes trailing up and down taking in the weariness that clings to every bone.

“I suppose it is.” Sawamura says quietly. “Do you think he heard?” No guesses as to who _he_ is.

Oh if he only knew.

“It’s hard to say. We priests don’t speak to them you know, like I said caretakers more than anything else.”

“So you spend years training to become a house cleaner.”

“Actually on second thought no, no he didn’t hear you. No chance. Zero. I think he’s actually a little deaf and you’re mumbling would have been hard to make out.”

Sawamura laughs at this. The last of the caution falling away and the sound echoes off the temple walls. It’s a happy laugh, full and hearty and Kuroo can feel his own lips move upwards. How long has it been since a human has laughed around him? Since one has looked upon him with anything more than fear, awe, or hatred? It’s a remarkably refreshing change.

“Well maybe I should stop wasting your time then priest. I’m sure you have other duties to take on, like brushing the floor and not skulking in dark corners.”

Kuroo sighs and uses his best victimised voice, the one that never fails to make Tsukishima’s eye twitch. “Oh I see how it is; you leave at the first hint of trouble. It’s a good thing our relationship didn’t go any further or I would be hurt Sawamura.” The name falls from his lips with ease, though for a second he’s tempted to use the name Daichi with the memory still vivid in his head. If the other is surprised at the casual use of his name he doesn’t show it, merely shaking his head at the tone.

“I would hate for you to think so ill of me but you must admit if he isn’t listening then there is little point.”

“Why did you pray to him?” Sawamura pauses at the question and Kuroo watches the sharpness of a quick mind flare brightly in his eyes.

“It’s what men like me should do before we head off to fight isn’t it? Either that or I’ve been led astray by my companions.”

“You don’t strike me as a man to follow popular opinion.” Not from someone who could push down the instinctual need of self-preservation to save his friend or who spoke of his supposedly patron god with distaste. There’s something else about him. Kuroo is curious, the sensation feels almost brand new after so much repetition and stagnation in his routine.

“Can I trust you with my prayer Kuroo?” The war god feels a shiver down his arms. Everything feels ceremonial in an instant. It would be so easy to reveal himself and see how this human would react.

But something deeper in him rebels.

A warrior is looking at him, using his name, asking to be heard. Faint feelings from long ago stir in his chest. When was the last time he’d listened? Memories of older times run through his head. Times when he would stand side by side with chosen men and doomed ones all united in the turmoil that was battle.

He pauses. Lets himself remember the weight of his godhood.

“Yes.”

Sawamura jolts back a little at the seriousness in that simple word. The curiosity from before reappears but he straightens up and takes in a deep breath.

“I asked for him to watch over my men, lead them to safety not to slaughter another man in front of them. I asked him to let them return home from this fight. I asked for him to make this a quick, unimportant battle.”

“Nothing for yourself?”

“I do not trust in gifts of the gods only what I can reach with my own hands.” Kuroo hums and twirls the staff in his hand. He knows it’s not exactly priestly conduct but it helps him think and the way Sawamura backs up a step with wary eyes is a little funny as well.

“You have no faith in him and very little in yourself.” He states bluntly. Pieces starting to fall into place. “Maybe even less in yourself. But for your men you’re willing to bow your head to a lump of stone and pray for its help. You’d rather be back in the training yard honing your skills because you think that will serve you much better than asking a god for support fully knowing that the enemy are doing the same.”

The pause that follows stretches out between them. Kuroo could easily look into Sawamura’s head. He had a certain amount of control over all those who called themselves a soldier even if they could barely pick up a weapon. But that would ruin the fun of everything.

“You’re the cunning type aren’t you?” Kuroo’s grin is a flash of teeth in the dark. “Can I ask you something else?” Not the smoothest way of avoiding the subject but he nods the feeling of satisfaction from figuring it out leaving him more receptive than usual. Sawamura points to the statue again. “Why the panther?”

What?

“Excuse me?”

“The symbol on his shield, why is it a panther?”

“Do you know anything about Kuroo at all?”

“Him or you? I know next to nothing about him, I was always falling asleep whenever the gods were spoken of. Too tired from working in the field I’m afraid. Plus I always preferred the tales of the storm god; Lord Iwaizumi had the best legends. I know plenty about you though.” His eyes are twinkling and Kuroo isn’t sure if he feels irritated or intrigued. He ruthlessly pushes down the pang of sadness at hearing his old friend’s name.

“Oh?”

“You like to hide in shadowy corners and tease poor soldiers who don’t really know what they’re doing. I don’t think you’ve heard of a mirror before or you’ve been cursed with the most unfortunate state of bed hair in the world. You’re smart, but cautious and a very good actor. Very curious and cunning. You’re a fighter, damn good one too from the way you moved that staff. And also…” Brown eyes pin Kuroo in place. “you’ve lost something or you’re searching for something but you don’t know what.”

Silence. 

Kuroo needs to leave.

“You should go. You’re men are waiting outside.” He can feel eyes staring into his back as he turns to go, sharply telling himself that this isn’t a retreat. Even as he knows it is. A laugh sounds out behind him.

“You also don’t like people knowing these things.”

“Goodbye Sawamura. Get back to your training, you need to work on your left arm a bit more.” The tip comes out before he can stop it.

“If I do can I come back and talk to you again?” Bad idea.

“No.”

“But what if I want to learn more about the other Kuroo?”

“You don’t believe in him so go.” Were humans always so disobedient or just this one?

“You don’t want to try and convince me otherwise? You’re probably the best person to do that.” Kuroo freezes and whirls around. There’s no way. No way he’d guessed his true identity. Sawamura didn’t even know much about him as a war god anyway. Steel flashes in his eyes, if the man has found out then he must die and no human is a match for him. A simple thought and the staff would turn into a scythe. Kuroo could cross the room in an instant and swing it down in a fatal blow. A little unfortunate but necessary.

Sawamura’s eyes laugh at him as much as his smile does.

“I’m sure as a priest your pride would be wounded if you didn’t know more about your lord and master than anyone else. Besides I think you have the look of a good storyteller.” Kuroo is silent. Sawamura’s smile dims. “Besides it would be a good distraction for me.”

It’s tiny present only in the final word but there’s a note of pleading, of wistfulness, there. Kuroo’s heard it before in men tired of war, who want to live in peace, who fight for peace. Often they made the best warriors.

_You need to start taking more care in your duties Kuroo._

A distraction. A reminder.

_A sharp bark of laughter as Iwaizumi hands him a drink. “Humans really are the most interesting beings. One day you’ll stop watching them hit each other and see that.”_

_You’re becoming apathetic and that is not a fate I wish upon any being._

He bites his lip. He really does hate to be lectured.

“Come tomorrow.” He ignores the pleased surprise blooming on Sawamura’s face and carries on. He can always put a stop to this later. “In the afternoon. I refuse to let a captain of men carry on knowing nothing about his patron god. It wounds me to think of your ignorance.”

Sawamura smiles.

It’s bright and soft. The youthfulness of the man finally showing. It reminds Kuroo of a clear night when the stars finally shine through with no clouds to obstruct the view.

_A single skip in his heartbeat, too slight to be noticed, too important to have been overlooked._

“I’ll be here Kuroo. Thank you.” He actually waves before leaving and Kuroo tries to fight the smile rising to his face. How many times as he smiled today?

He leans against the wall and wills himself back into his armour. The staff and medallion disappearing as easily as he made them. His eyes linger on the doorway Sawamura has left through.

“I think you’re the cunning one.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally done with the first chapter! This is an AU I have been working on with my sister and after months of planning I have completed at least part of it. I'm aiming for 4 chapters but I'm not sure when I'll be able to get the next one out. For any one waiting for an update on my Hogwarts series I promise that I am working on the next one. I hope I managed to keep everyone in character. Hope you guys enjoy!


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